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Dejé el sur Viajé al norte Conseguí confuso, maté un caballo
“Usted nunca fallaría incluso en invierno,” huskily drawled the honey Spanish voice of dark el Extranjero, who lay under a summer sun with his back to a tree, twirling a daffodil through his nimble fingers and regarding it airily, “porque no hay tierra ahora a congelar debajo de usted.” He smiled a glint of white teeth. There was a pause as a quiet breeze fluttered the plant's yellow petals. “Ah, feliz verano,” he said to the flower in tones most concluding, and let it flutter lazily to the ground. So the day continued, the engagingly tall coyote getting to his feet with a flamboyant sweep, and pointedly heading North.
New scents were beginning to make themselves known; wolves, a species with whom the open-minded stranger was familiar, but who took a place in el Extranjero's heroic back catalogue only when he deemed them as cultured as he. For wolves and coyotes did not always inter-mingle, and why should they? Different species didn't tend to, no matter how common their ancestors. El Extranjero could be said to have a great deal of weight on his shoulders, but instead he took each day as it came, never dragged back, little time for resting, waves of constant energy to do with what he would, but with, as ever, ongoing élan.
Eventually the land moved quite considerably, and that was what was best about travel. The scenery changing, and el Extranjero saw it with romanticism rather than dull realism; the scenery changed, but el Extranjero didn't. As it did, and as miles passed beneath his paws, his sinuous muscles far from aching, his dark eyes no less keen, the afternoon waned and plains stretched before him. But he halted, and tactfully so, for this was evidently a territory claimed. Had he been a wolf, el Extranjero would have expressed even more appropriate tact by turning and being on his way, for high on wooden pikes were distinctly lupine skulls.
He regarded them not with fear or disgust, but with mild interest. Simple death it may have depicted, but it also suggested a history. He took a walk along the borders. And he did so without any great deliberation; he wasn't stalking the territory or waiting to get in; or spying or loitering. The Spaniard's gaze picked up the landscape and noted it like some tenacious geographer.
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indent The trail Gabriel followed was well worn from constant patrol. His pace was an even trot, tail hanging evenly from his spine, head high and looking wholly unconcerned with the world around him. Of course, he was aware of the forest; he could hear the birds, screaming at squirrels, small animals rushing along the underbrush, and smell the scents of running water and deer droppings. These weren’t the only things he noticed, however—a stranger’s scent came across the area, and the Aquila continued on his way towards it.
indentHe found the source, a coyote outside of the borders. There was no scent on him to suggest that he was from a pack, or even from the area. The doggish hybrid came to a halt near one of the pikes, and called out. “Can I help you?”
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Dejé el sur Viajé al norte Conseguí confuso, maté un caballo
The tip of a stave protruded from the hollow eye socket of a wolf's skull, and every now and again such similar physical warning could be seen, clashing brilliantly with the attractive landscape. If some oblivious fool with no sense of smell were to stumble onwards in the hope that they would find the land unclaimed, they would be very unsuccessful.
They would come instead across yet another post atop which slanted an enemy's skull. Clearly the intention was to scare, but only the truly arrogant revelled in such things. If arrogance failed to triumph, then, the true nature of these staves was simply a firm, direct and obvious notice that beyond them was a no-go zone.
El Extranjero didn't walk beyond them. Indeed, he was at a harmless distance until he sensed a presence that heralded a voice that called to him. The hybrid was not a shop merchant or tourist information, so this wasn't an offer as the words on their own implied. “Help with what, señor?” he called back, his elegant stride slowing to address him with light civility. | | [/html]
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indent It was more, in truth, out of tradition that Gabriel kept the skulls. He and his mother had been the first to do so, and he wanted to keep that memory alive. Intimidation, scare tactics, brazen reminders of what they had done—that was why he kept the skulls. That was why so many of them bore the same eight-pointed star that he wore on his shoulder. At the response, Gabriel tilted his head slightly, causing the charms around his neck to jingle slightly. The accent was one he had not heard since he had been a young man still in search of God; before the scars and the age had sunk into his eyes.
indent “What most stragglers want,” he offered, shrugging lightly. “Where are you from? I haven’t heard anyone with an accent like that in years.” The southwest was far behind him, though he carried the scars (and in his mind) the darkened fur to mark him for the great fire that had swallowed so much of California by his hand and His providence.
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Dejé el sur Viajé al norte Conseguí confuso, maté un caballo
The male's accent was instantaneously noticed, as tended to happen. It was rare that he was judged by his accent, but usually it sparked some kind of interest if not intrigue. The wolf before him showed interest that no doubt came from an interest in the size of the world and diversity of the inhabitants therein. Which in turn suggested that he, like el Extranjero, was not the type to stay in one place.
That said, the word “years” felt a little out of place coming from a wolf who looked like he had only just turned “year” into a plural when it came to his age. Although the stranger still seemed to think it a good idea to talk from a distance with raised volume, el Extranjero moved to close the distance between them somewhat so no yelling was required. “I do not know myself, but I am supposing I am from España. What is this word ‘straggler’?” | | [/html]
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indent The stranger was of large build, which was peculiar for a coyote. Gabriel could see, as he approached, that there was nothing in his build to suggest he was a hybrid. This was curious to the Aquila, whom had never seen a coyote standing as tall as this man. “Someone wandering with no goal in mind,” he offered, knowing that this was not a fully correct explanation. Keeping his body language easy and his eyes even with the stranger, the hybrid continued. “Do you have a name?”
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Dejé el sur Viajé al norte Conseguí confuso, maté un caballo
No goal? El Extranjero wondered how the stranger might have known this (though it was not true -- his goal was geographical, and the horizon he had his eyes on always one planned), and whether it was really a good idea to brand all random strangers with such a label anyway. The young hybrid's question seemed less likely to fall across any incorrect assumptions, and its structure allowed el Extranjero to answer, “no,” with interesting honesty. “But I am called el Extranjero, means foreign, means stranger, called it by those who see Español. And you, what is your nombre?” | | [/html]
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indent He had no name. That was a peculiar thing for Gabriel, whom had never come across someone with similar circumstances. Even the vagabond trash in the south west bore the names their parents had given them, with or without contempt. “Gabriel,” the hybrid replied, leaving out his surname and title. These things were not important in situations such as the one they were currently involved in. “What brings you out this way?”
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Dejé el sur Viajé al norte Conseguí confuso, maté un caballo
“Gabriel; ah, like the ángel,” he observed, it not being a rare name, but certainly a meaningful one; regardless of whether or not Gabriel lived up (or down!) to it. The question caused el Extranjero to blink lightly and cast a brief glance over the horizon to the east as he untangled the English words. What brings you was familiar enough, so he proceeded with that, dark eyes returning to the shorter fellow. “I travel, simply travel, because I do not know home, so I cannot use it as a goal or as a... how do you say, motivación? I find many places where I might be useful, helpful, and so I think there no reason to ah, cuál es la palabra, para evitar... to avoid.” | | [/html]
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I"ll be leaving for Indiana on Wensday morning, so would you like to wrap this up before then so I don't leave you hanging for several days?
indent It had been his father who had chosen his name—his father, born into a cult and raised to hate religion—and this was the only thing that had defined his place in the world. Had he bore any other name, then he might have changed it, as he had long ago considered taking on Lykoi rather then de le Poer. “I’ll advise you to avoid the wolf pack to our south,” he said calmly, showing no outward sign of the vicious hatred he carried. “Dahlia de Mai. They’ve become very vicious towards us, and even though you aren’t from Inferni, thigh might not take kindly to you.”
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Dejé el sur Viajé al norte Conseguí confuso, maté un caballo
OOC: Sure; and thanks, that's considerate of you. 
IC: At the advice, el Extranjero took a glance South, which was the direction from which he had traveled. Though this country was vast (to say the least), and it seemed hostile scents had been successfully avoided, to the point at which el Extranjero was altogether ignorant of it. Until now, of course.
“Gracias, I will keep this in my mind.” He assumed that said hostility was simply racism, coyotes sneered at by certain wolves (the reverse was also plausible), so it did not surprise him. It did, however, interest him slightly; he had come to these lands as a stranger, after all. “You have time, perhaps, to tell me more of this?” | | [/html]
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This seemed like a good place to end. :]
indent “It’s not a problem,” Gabriel said, acting as he had to all the strangers that passed by without ill intent; polite, though not overly concerned. The hybrid rose to his feet, and shook the dust from his coat. At the question, he snorted through his nose and spared a glance to the southern border. “That’s a long story. Unfortunately, I really can’t afford the time right now.” Not while Anselm was out of the territory and the threat of attack hung heavy in the air. “Feel free to come back at any time, though, and I’ll be sure to explain what I can.” With a slight dip of the head, the hybrid was off at a doggish trot, continuing along the dirt trail.
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